


The Fourth Street Wizard

by Linxe_Termoil



Series: The Fourth Street Wizard [1]
Category: ASTRO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Blood, Deaths, F/M, M/M, Magic, Multi, Necromancers, Shifters, Vampires, Were-Wolves, Witches, Wizards
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:00:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26571052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linxe_Termoil/pseuds/Linxe_Termoil
Summary: Jaehyun’s smirk grew bigger as he passed the shot glass over again. “Lee Taeyong, love of my life, prettiest queen this poor boy has ever seen, meet your infamous cousin, Lee Dongmin, Wizard extraordinaire, exiled and disowned by all branches of your family except for one, heir to the family fortune, blah blah blah. Cheers Dongmin, and welcome home!”
Relationships: Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Series: The Fourth Street Wizard [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1932589
Kudos: 5





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the pre-notes. This is something I have been working on and I got all excited about it. See the other notes below as to why I started to write it. Unfortunately, I lost track and realized I wanted to make changes but I didn't want to delete any of this, so I started another story along a bit of the same concept. I don't know if that one is going to continue or if this one is not going to continue or if I'm just going to write them both. I do know I really like this story though and I don't want to throw it away. I'm rambling. Anyway, enjoy. I was going to post one big long story but after hitting 18k I realized that that was not going to be possible, so I'm splitting it into parts.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dongmin gets summoned home.

NOTES:

Because Papillion87 wrote the vampire series “[Freefall](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1522376)”, of which I hope we get more of, and Vonseal wrote [garlic and blood (and a bit of love)](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1541464) series, along with the magic users series, and I thought to myself Well.. vampires are cool, magic’s cool, why not have a bit of both. So here is my poor attempt at emulating two very good writers, both of whom I recommend reading at any given time. 

Also because there’s just not enough 2Min love going on in the world. A miracle occurred too. What was supposed to only be a smut story turned into a story with an actual plot. 

PROLOGUE

Cha Eunwoo took one look at the large house, more of a mansion really, and the vast yard and knew instantly it was a dream; though the cawing of the crows and the blood-red sky, perhaps, were a dead give-away. Perhaps it is also the fact that he has not set foot in that mansion or on these lands in years, not since he was fifteen. Eight years, almost a full decade, had passed since he had last been here. 

Yet the house in this dream had changed. It was run down, falling apart, really, by the look of things, like whoever owned it no longer had the energy to keep up on basic repairs and maintenance. A reflection of reality, perhaps? Overhead, the chimney from the great sitting room smoked, filling his nose with the scent of burning yew wood. 

Dongmin shuddered at the scent, a niggling in the back of his mind that he was not going to like the reason he had been summoned. For that is what this is, as sure as the earth is round and the moon circles the earth, as the earth circles the sun. 

The house moved, or perhaps he did. He was not sure which, except where he had once been standing outside the open cast-iron gate, he was now on the sagging front porch. The front door, a guardian within its own right, opened, beckoning him onward.

He could leave if he wanted to. Turn down the invitation so to speak, but it had been _so_ long. With a sigh and a muffled curse, Dongmin stepped across the doorway and into the foyer of the large mansion. The room had changed, since the last time he had been here. Gone was the foyer. Instead, it opened directly into a large room filled with sagging, broken shelves, and a glass case full of _eccentric_ items, things of interest to commoners who had no magic but liked to pretend they did. A deck of tarot cards was on fire in the case. Another section of glass had been completely shattered, the goods it had been protecting laying on the floor.

The thought crossed his mind that _someone_ had come and started a fight. It was a thought that only became reinforced as he stepped forward and into a pool of blood. Ignoring it, Dongmin proceeded further and, not concerned with the room, turned right at the large doors that swung open at his approach, welcoming the lord of the castle home after a long night. The old sitting room had changed. Whereas before it had been comfortably filled with furniture, now it was practically barren, a couple of chairs from the 1800s sat before the fireplace, a small table between the two of them. The fireplace was lit, flames crackling _morosely._ One stride, two. He swooped up the glass of ice-filled brandy that had been sitting on the low table between the two chairs, and then he was in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames.

Silence encompassed them, complete in its reign over the house. It was, Dongmin decided, fitting. The house had almost always been silent, filled with the scratching of pens and pencils across notebooks in his earlier years, or the rustling of pages from books and journals being turned over as he studied and made notes. Occasionally the small spoken word would break that bleak silence, as he attempted a spell he did not quite understand. But those days were gone. Now the silence is all that is left. It would have been perfect if he had been alone.

But he was not.

"Why have you summoned me?" he asked, breaking the silence. His voice was carefully blank, denying any emotion he may have been feeling. The days of _feeling_ emotions, especially for this place, were long gone.

A small cough answered him. Dongmin did not turn to look. He did not want to, he realized. Not because he did not want to see _her_ face, because he did. More than anything. But because he was scared. Had she summoned him to spit on his very being?

"I'm dying, Dongmin," her voice was haggard, gasping for air where there was none to be had.

Dongmin closed his eyes.

"That has nothing to do with me," he whispered, taking a sip of the brandy. His hand is tingling with how tight his grip on the glass was. He inhaled, forced himself to relax. Losing control of his emotions would do him no good.

The shadows seemed to exhale at his words. Dongmin could feel them. No, not them. It...

He cocked his head to the side, curious about the _undertone_ of magic he could feel in the room. So she had not been the only one to summon him. Another had helped her. Had she called upon the gods he himself no longer believed in just to speak with him one more time?

"Come home, Dongmin."

There it was, the reason she had summoned him. His grip tightened once more on the glass.

"I have been exiled, you know that," he replied, voice steady.

"By those who have no business or power to do so. You are my heir. Come home, Dongmin."

"It's Cha Eunwoo, now," he retorted. There was no heat in his voice.

"Is it?" she asked with a breezy laugh. Her voice sounded stronger. The shadows deepened. He could feel them, the strength inherent in their essence. No, not them or their. Him. She had the strength of a man behind her. Not a man. A...

He opened his eyes and steeling himself, turned to face her. He was so glad he had done so, for a gasp nearly escaped him at the sight of her.

Gone were the long, illustrious black locks and smooth skin he remembered. Where once there had been vitality and aged youthfulness, there was now a haggard old woman, hair shocked white, almost bluish in color. Pockmarks and sagging, yellowish skin clung to her, yet looking into her eyes, Dongmin could see there was still some strength left to her. Her lips were pulled up in a smile, her teeth as pearly white as ever. The old woman, for that is what she had become in his absence, still had some bite left to her.

"He won't hurt you, child," the woman whispered, her own glass of brandy cradled to her chest, like a woman holding tight to her child.

Dongmin ignored her, still intent on trying to parse out this strange presence. He had never felt magic like this before, except once when he had...

He swallowed and pushed the thought away.

"Have a seat, Dongmin," the old lady murmured.

It was not a request, no matter how it was worded. Nothing ever was, really. But Dongmin's not the same boy he used to be. He had changed. He ignored her command.

"What do you want?" he asked. The shadows apparently took exception at the tone of his voice, for they seemed to darken and expand toward him.

"Even after all these years, you're still so impatient," she murmured.

Dongmin shrugged. "What can I say. I'm a busy boy. I got things to do, places to be, people to screw, you know how it is."

"And ruder, too," she remarked.

Dongmin smiled, as smarmy as could be. She bared her teeth at him. He shot her a wink.

The old woman laughed.

"Oh how I've missed you," she whispered. Her words could not be missed though, for aside from the crackling of the log in the fireplace, it was complete, utter silence that enveloped the room.

Dongmin sighed. "How long?" he asked, turning back around to face the fire.

"Not much," she answered.

Dongmin sighed. The shadows grew still.

"There were nine of them," she remarked off-handed.

Dongmin nodded, not knowing what to say. Her breath was turning raspy in her chest, straining to continue breathing.

Silence fell over them. Dongmin turned away when blood began trickling from her mouth, eyes on the fire. The brandy refilled itself, a small comfort as the old grandfather clock continued to tick on.

"Things have been getting stranger, lately," she broke the silence once more. "Vampires have been appearing more frequently, unconcerned with the church."

That's right, there was a vast church in the small town he had lived in. The cathedral itself was very famous and humongous. Though perhaps it was inappropriate to call it a cathedral, for it had been a monastery first, but the priests had become ambitious and built the old building up so it towered high in the sky. An eyesore, if you asked him. This had all been before his time.

"Zombies have been appearing in the streets, time and time again, night after night, day after day. Graves are being desecrated. The church blamed me."

Dongmin sighed. It was hard to escape the church's scorn.

"Templars?" he asked. 

"It does not matter," she remarked, off-handed and perhaps a bit smug. It was so like her. For all her power, all she had wanted in life was to live in peace and help people, never holding a grudge or placing blame on anyone in her life.

Dongmin nodded at her words. Whomever it was is dead then. Killed by her hand, or the hands of whoever was backing her.

"I fear there is a necromancer roaming the streets once more. Sometimes I feel someone pushing at the-" her words were interrupted by coughing, harsh and barking compared to the soft crackling of the fireplace.

It took her some time to stop coughing, her chest straining, breathing turning into a wheezing, whistling sound.

"The last guardian has awakened, Dongmin. Please come home," she asked, pleaded with him, really, one more time.

Dongmin did not answer her, nor did he pay attention to the shadows that had lengthened, reaching for her. Reaching for him, as well, though they were more tentative in coming closer to him than they were her. For her, they were like a young puppy greeting its master, eager to play and just as unwilling to let her go.

He did not answer her, nor did he answer the tentative question the shadows seemed to be asking him.

Another cough shook her small, fragile frame, the chair shaking with each cough that wracked her body.

"Good-bye, Great-great-great Aunty," Dongmin whispered, eyes closing against the sound. Before she could stop coughing, before she could respond, Dongmin snapped his fingers. His own magic ripped apart the room around him, took him away from the dream-summons.

Dongmin sat up, gasping for breath as the cool night air flowed through the single-room house, if one could even call it that, cooling his sweat-soaked body. Outside, an owl hooted.

The sun was just beginning to rise above the horizon seven days later when his chest stopped aching, the soft golden light spilling over the top of the mountain cliffs east of him.

The cracking of sticks and twigs was becoming incessant, growing closer and closer before coming to a stop, somewhere behind him. A small cough shook the silence of the early dawn morning, seeking his attention. Dongmin ignored it, eyes still on the horizon, continuing to watch as the sun crested the mountain top, glorious in all its vast fiery energy. A true beacon of hope, some would say.

A true form of death, Dongmin would say, if one were to ask him.

"You're a hard person to find, Dongmin."

Dongmin's breath hitched in his chest. It had been a long time since he had heard that particular voice. But still, he did not turn around to face the other man.

But still... "It's Cha Eunwoo now," he murmured, perhaps more to the rising sun than the other man.

"She's gone, Dongmin." The man whispered, voice shaky. Perhaps he had not heard Dongmin. Perhaps he had and just did not care.

"She passed away a week ago...it...it was..." The man stopped talking as if it pained him too much.

Dongmin did not respond. Just continued to watch the sun.

The man cleared his throat once more. "A-anyway, s-she left you everything. She wants you to come home, to take over the family business."

Dongmin snorted. A wizard shop was not much of a family business, especially since, as far as he knew, she had never actually planned on letting any of their rather particularly large clan help her out. But than, her lofty dream of owning and running a wizarding shop had been in the planning phase when he had lived with her. Had she actually managed to get it up and running, than? Dongmin did not know, nor did he ask.

"She also appoints you as head of the clan with all--"

"I don't care," Dongmin interrupted. The man sputtered to a stop behind him, but not for long though. 

"D-dongmin--"

Dongmin finally turned around and faced the man, a bit startled at how one could still see the _boy_ that Kim Mingyu had been. It was as if time had not touched him at all.

Perhaps it had not.

"I don't care, Mingyu. I will come, for now. As for whether I stay or not, I don't know."

Mingyu studied him, or perhaps tried too, with the way he was squinting. A disadvantage, with the sun right behind Dongmin, casting him in shadows.

Dongmin stood up and stepped closer until he was within touching distance. His face was blank and his eyes were serious as Mingyu's eyes widened in shock as he began to take in Dongmin.

"Let's go home, Mingyu."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, kudos, tips and suggestions appreciated. Let me know what you think. I'll have the second chapter posted shortly, I think.


	2. Chapter 1

Dongmin stared, aghast at the state of the house his great-great-great aunt had bequeathed to him upon her death. It was an old romanesque revival mansion at the heart of fourth street that had once served as the family home and, sometime in the recent past, been partially converted into a shop. Mostly for the common witch and wizard that had no more power than a common hedge-witch. Which is to say, not very powerful at all. 

The shop, however, had failed. With failure came the results. The once tidy pathway lined with flowers was in an abysmal state: cracks and broken stones marred the stone stepping-stones. The grass is an ugly brown, the shade of actual honest to gods shit. Worse, it was overgrown, and weeds marred the flower beds. The sign, a simple wooden board, had collapsed, its post having rotted through at the bottom. All that was left to mark where it had once been was a short stump of wood sticking sharply out of the ground, slightly reddish in color. 

It was going to cost a lot of money for repairs, landscapers, and herbs or flowers to repair the state of decay that the garden was in. Money that he, quite frankly, did not really have, or, and his nose wrinkled up in disgust at the thought, hard work on his own part. 

The outside of the house wasn’t much better, he thought as he took in the view. Windows were cracked or just plain broken; boarded up in other places. The stone facade was cracked or just plain missing in other parts and the steps, where they once should have been stone, were now a simple untreated wood, cracked and sagging in some places, rotting through in others.

Cobwebs hung about the large porch. A ceiling fan was dangling from the porch roof by its wires. It was, if not a flat out fire hazard, going to most possibly be a costly repair. Electricians were expensive.

He could not help but sigh as he took all of this in, uncertain if he wanted to go inside, despite his great-great-great aunties’ wish in regards to him and the property. He even dared to go so far as to turn on his heel and walk back out the gate he had walked in through, taking in the sites on fourth street. It was not much.

Homes and quite a few shops lined the other side of the street a few blocks down in either direction. Across the way lay the riverfront park, the grass mown, neatly kept and maintained by the town. It was a sparkling green, flush with life. If he were to move further out into the street, almost to the park, he’d be able to see a tall, arcing bridge that crossed the river into the newer parts of town. A most eccentric piece, if you were to ask him. But then, this town had been built on eccentricity.

Further down the road, he could discern the old graveyard, its obelisks and gravestones standing stark and proud against the sky. A bit of death in a place teeming with life. The tallest obelisk, another eccentric piece for sure, seemed to be staring at him with haughtiness and disappointment. It was his great-great-great aunts’ marker atop the highest point in the graveyard. Even in death, the old woman seemed to be standing guard over the town. 

For good reason too. She had been the last line of defense for the town when a vampire gang had attacked, intent on gaining food and money. The story had it that she had struck down most of the coven, but even then, as powerful as she was, it still had not been enough. 

At least, that’s what he had heard, and for whatever reason, she had wanted him to come and _stay_ here upon her death. Him, out of all the rest of his family, the disowned one. She had wanted it bad enough that she had made him her sole heir and beneficiary, upon one condition. 

What on earth was she thinking and, more importantly, why? She knew what he _was_. No, still is. He could not deny that. 

“Oh, is that him? The old woman’s nephew?”

Dongmin blinked and turned toward the voice across the street, where a couple of old ladies were standing, a couple of strollers in front of them. Grandmothers’ by the look of things, out for an afternoon stroll with their grandchildren. 

“Maybe we should go and talk to him? At the very least, we should welcome him to the town. Find out if he’s staying? There are some saying that he won’t stay. Say he was, y’know, disowned and exiled by his family. Others are saying that his family is pissed he got everything, and they’ll be comin’ to strike him dead.”

“Ohhhh I do hope he stays. He’s a handsome one, isn’t he! I tell ya if I was just twenty years younger, I'd hop on him like a witch gettin' on her broo-”

“Weren’t ya listenin’ Maggie! They sayin’ there’s gonna be a war! Wonder if’n he can even use magic. He doesn’t look like much, kinda scrawny and frail if ya ask me. Even sickly. How’s he supposed to protect us from…”

Dongmin blushed at the attention he was receiving and retreated back through the gate, cursing under his breath at the first woman. While used to such remarks about his looks, it was truly embarrassing to him, the speculation and comments about his relationship with his family. More importantly, he did _not_ look sickly and frail. He was young, hearty, and strong! 

Hoping they would not approach, Dongmin scurried up the pathway, tripping on a stone poking up from the ground, out of place like everything else here. Catching himself, he reached the front porch and, wary of the sagging steps, he gingerly climbed them as quickly as he could. 

Reaching into his pant pocket, he pulled out the long, lone skeleton key that had been given him by his great-great-great aunt’s attorney. A horrid, dreadful thing it was, for it had the visage of a skull as its bow and, rather than being nice, shiny steel, it was bleached bone-white, yellowing with age in some spots, for it was truly made of bone. The only thing stopping it from disintegrating at the lightest touch was that it was reinforced with magic. 

The key however was useless, for the large double doors were already unlocked, swinging open at the lightest of his touch. Hearing voices come closer, he tentatively stepped inside, afraid of whatever nasty traps the old woman may have left behind. But, nothing happened, and he breathed easier for a moment before he started sneezing viciously. 

One mere step had stirred up the dust in the place. He covered his nose in a lame attempt to restrain his sneezing. He used the time to give his sight a chance to adjust to the darkness, mere hints of sunlight peeking through the boards and heavy curtains that sealed the windows. He blanched at the sight of knocked over wooden shelves and broken glass on the foyer tiles through the second door leading into the main entry hall of the once glamorous house. 

It was like his auntie had not been dead for a mere month, but years, for the place was caked in dust and dirt, cobwebs hanging from the corners as he stepped further inside, still sneezing. 

“D-demons t-take it,” he mumbled aloud as he sneezed with enough force that his body shook, freezing as noise from _upstairs_ caught his attention. Covering his mouth and nose, he forcefully repressed his next sneeze, listening intently. 

There. The sound of wooden floors creaking and a slight thumping, like feet moving swiftly across carpeted, wooden floors in an effort to be silent. They were skilled, but not skilled enough. His spine tingled. He was _not_ alone in his great-aunt’s house. Heart hammering in his chest as he dropped into a crouch, he slowly backed out of the foyer and back into the sunlight. 

Something heavy landed on his shoulder just as he stepped back onto the porch. He shrieked and whirled, eyes closed with his fist lashing out blindly in fright. Pain rocked up his hand along with a distinct crack as his fist connected. His next swing missed, even as something connected with his chest and sent him crashing into the door frame. He was quick to straighten up despite the pain in his chest and back, fists coming up to attack. 

“Oh my god,” someone’s voice, thick and nasally, invaded his ears. He knew that voice, though the last time he had heard it had not been so thick and nasally. He opened his eyes and froze. 

“Mingyu?” he asked, surprised at the man sprawled on his back on the porch, fingers squeezed tightly around his bleeding nose. 

That wasn’t the issue though. The issue was the man beside Mingyu, a gun in his hand pointed directly at Dongmin’s chest, a nice gold shiny badge pinned to his chest, handcuffs on his belt. 

Dongmin sighed. The first day in this forsaken town and it looked like he was already going to jail. Fantastic. Just fucking fantastic.

“Hello cousin,” Dongmin greeted Lee Seokmin, his voice full of disdain. The man glared at him and cocked his gun. Dongmin smirked, fingers itching. Oh, how he wanted a fight!

“C’mon, take a seat, take a seat,” Mingyu murmured, ushering both Dongmin and Seokmin into what had once been one of the carriage houses, now a garage on the lower floor and a loft apartment on the second. 

It had become his great-great-great auntie’s last home in her final days after the main house/shop had become a nightmare to maintain. Also, he had been told, because the main house had become…

“I’m sorry, did you say the main house is haunted?” Dongmin asked slightly in disbelief. He found a seat on the vintage 30’s couch, nursing his injured hand to his chest. He sincerely hoped it was not broken. 

This forsaken town did not even have a hospital, as far as he knew. At least it was his hand, he thought to himself as he took another look at Mingyu’s nose. The other boy was bleeding immensely from his nose still. In fact, it looked like it was definitely broken. Lee Seokmin continued to glare at him from where he had taken a seat, gun holstered but hand visibly twitching, as if he wished for nothing more than to pull it out and shoot Dongmin with it. 

“Yes, that’s what I said, Dongmin. It’s a long story…”

“Cha Eunwoo,” Dongmin interrupted a bit heatedly. 

“I’m sorry, what?” Mingyu looked taken aback and slightly stumped. 

“My name is Cha Eunwoo. Lee Dongmin is dead, completely disinherited by his family, in case you haven’t heard. I’m assuming you have, though. After all, a boy I once called cousin is sitting next to you.”

His words caused Seokmin to scowl at him even further. Dongmin glared back, his own fingers itching to do...something, anything, really. So long as it caused pain. 

“Knock it off, you two, and you’re not entirely correct, _Dongmin,_ ” Mingyu huffed out, placing an emphasis on his given name. “Your great-great-great aunt obviously has _not_ disinherited you or even renounced you. If she had, I suspect you would not be here. Here, she left this for you. She asked me to make sure you received it. Said you would understand once you read it.”

Mingyu pulled a thick, heavily sealed envelope from beneath his suit jacket and offered it to Dongmin. Dongmin glanced at it, hesitant and wary of a trap. It would not be beneath his illustrious, former relatives to attempt to kill him, even now. Especially with something as innocuous as paper. But, there, in plain view was his great-great-great aunt’s seal, neatly pressed into a lump of wax as plain as day. 

While he doubted his former relatives would dishonor themselves by enspelling his great-great-great aunties’ last words to him, or anyone else, he still did not entirely trust it. Hand trembling with his frayed nerves and the adrenaline still rushing through his veins, he gingerly took hold of the envelope and without sparing a glance toward either one of the other two, he set the envelope down on the coffee table, wishing for a glass of whiskey to help settle his nerves. 

Mingyu seemed to understand this, for his next words had Seokmin scowling at _both_ of them. 

“Seokmin, be a dear and get Dongmin a glass of whiskey, would you. You should find some in the top cupboard…”

“I know where it is,” Seokmin snapped out. Mingyu just rolled his eyes in response. 

With a heavy sigh, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders and Armageddon had come to pass, Seokmin stood from his chair and walked into the kitchen, shoulders tense and head cocked to the side, obviously listening in on the conversation, Mingyu watching him from where he stood. 

Dongmin’s fingers itched, and he couldn’t quite help the twitchy trembling overcoming his hands. Closing his eyes, he tightly clasped both of them together and, hoping no one would notice, he sat on them, only to see Mingyu watching him when he opened his eyes back up, an eyebrow raised questioningly. 

Dongmin ignored him. 

“Right,” Mingyu murmured to himself, apparently deciding not to question Dongmin’s behavior. “Where were we? Ah yes, the main house is apparently haunted. At least, that’s what your aunt said. I should have been here sooner to let you know. Sorry, Dongmin.”

“It’s Cha Eunwoo,” Dongmin retorted, eyes on the envelope. Seokmin approached but, rather than attempt to hand the ice-filled glass of whiskey to Dongmin, he set it down on the coffee table beside the envelope before retreating back to the chair he had been sitting in. Dongmin reached for the glass and took a sip and then another before using the cold glass to ice his hand. 

“Unfortunately, we have not been able to figure out what it is that is currently haunting your new house. Anyone that goes in just runs out screaming, and we can’t seem to get them to speak of what it is they see,” Mingyu murmured, eyes on Dongmin’s whiskey glass. 

Dongmin held it tighter, feeling slightly petty about the fact that Kim Mingyu, once Dongmin’s best friend, had brought perhaps the one person Dongmin hated above all others to his great-great-great aunties’ house with him. 

It was, as far as he was concerned, the betrayal of betrayals. It did not matter that he has not seen or spoken to Kim Mingyu in years. Not since he was sixteen years old, when he had been run out of town and forced to survive on his own, all because he had… He swallowed and pushed his thoughts away just as chimes started to ring through the house.

“Ah, that’s the doorbell,” Mingyu said brightly. A bit too brightly, perhaps. Dongmin squinted suspiciously. 

His feeling that something was up only grew stronger as Seokmin, Dongmin’s number one hater, quickly jumped to his feet and eagerly scurried toward the stairs, calling out over his shoulder, “I’ll get it!”

“What’d you do?” he asked, eyes squinting at Mingyu. Mingyu fidgeted under his stare. 

“Mingyu…” Dongmin _growled,_ a warning in his tone. That was all it took to break him.

“Okay, so, we know you won’t like it, but we...uh...kind of called some priests over to...uh...exorcise the house...for...uh...you.” Mingyu squeaked out. 

All Dongmin’s annoyance abruptly faded. “I’m sorry, you did what?” He asked, blinking at Mingyu in disbelief. 

“We called some priests to exorcise the house,” Mingyu squeaked out again. “You weren’t supposed to be here yet. You’re like...a day early...and...well, you know...” he added, as if that would make it any better. 

Dongmin shook his head, processing the words before laughing outright.

“Mingyu, the place isn’t haunted. Auntie could have dealt with any ghosts herself. Neither she nor I, would have some need for a bunch of _charlatans_ to come deal with a ghost. Hellfires, we could deal with _any number_ of ghosts. What in the devil’s name made you call on a bunch of scam artists? It was Seokmin’s idea, wasn’t it? He always was jealous of me, and now he wants to _taint_ Aunties’ house with the presence of a bunch of...of...raving lunatics? Are you out of your mind!”

Dongmin did not receive an answer. At least not from Mingyu.

“Hi! I’m Father Park Jinwoo, the Charlatan in charge. You must be Lee Dongmin!” A cheerful voice came from the stairs a second later. 

“Cha Eunwoo,” Dongmin corrected automatically, taking in this so-called priest. He looked young, definitely too young to be a member of the priesthood. The boy behind him, shorter and way too blond to be natural, appeared to be even younger. With easy smiles, they strode toward him, hands out as if to shake his hand. He ignored it, watching them closely before groaning to himself. 

“You morons,” he murmured, not exactly discreet in his mumblings. “You didn’t bring the Clergy to my house.”

“I’m sorry, what? I assure you, they’re definitely clergy. The bishop himself recommended these two to me.” Mingyu stated, defensive and clearly bewildered at Dongmin’s words. 

Dongmin’s head hit the back of the couch in frustration and annoyance with this whole day so far. “They’re not clergy, Mingyu. They’re hellbound hunters.”

A gasp echoed through the room. Dongmin ignored it. Feeling a headache coming on, he simply brought the glass of whiskey back to his lips and downed it in one go, relishing in the pain the hoarse taste brought to his mouth. 

“W-we’re not h-hunters...I a-ass…”

Dongmin ignored the objections. “I need another drink. The rest of you just...get the hell off my auntie’s property!” he commanded, pulling his feet up and settling them on the coffee table. 

“It was my auntie’s house too, you know,” Seokmin objected.

Dongmin opened an eye and stared at him. 

“Ten seconds,” he murmured.

To emphasize his point, he pointed the index finger of his right hand in the air and began twirling it through the air in seemingly random motions and gestures. Motions and gestures that were second nature to him at this point. The tip of his finger began to glow as the shadows in the room darkened, seeming to creep closer toward Dongmin. Where Dongmin’s finger had been, fire lit the air and stayed in place, until runes began to take shape.

“You wouldn’t,” Seokmin hissed, face turning red with anger. Mingyu gulped, face going pale.

“I’m sorry, ten seconds for what?” Park Jinwoo asked. His companion stared at Dongmin with wide eyes. 

“Nine,” Dongmin murmured. 

Seokmin snorted. “Please, you’re just making random gestures,” he scoffed. 

“If that’s what you think,” Dongmin replied, closing his eyes once more. 

“What’s he doing?” another voice, the other hunter, asked. 

“I-i d-don’t know,” Mingyu stuttered out, a rustling noise coming from where he stood. A second later something thumped down on the couch beside Dongmin. 

“Your aunt’s account books. It’s all yours, if you need anything, please call. Also, you’ll need to come by the office at some point next week to sign the rest of the papers. Good luck with your ghost problem. Let’s go Seokmin!”

“Go? I’m not going anywhere! I’m telling you, he’s bluffing!”

“Bluffing? In case you’ve forgotten, he doesn’t bluff. He _never_ bluffs. He didn’t bluff the last time, remember!”

“Ah, crap. Run!”

“Run?” It was the priest, Park Jinwoo. Dongmin’s gestures grew even more frantic as he continued to wave his hand through the air, concentrating on the air around him until he found what he was looking for. 

Mana, the very essence of the universe itself, lay close at hand, strong in its power. Feet thumped down the stairs followed by the slamming of the carriage house doors a second later. 

Dongmin opened his eyes, to find the priest, Park Jinwoo, still standing there, staring at him, his brow furrowed in confusion. His companion behind him, edging backward toward the stairs. 

“Listen, my Son, I’m just here to help. I don’t know anything about this hunter nonsense, so please, just calm down. We can talk about this.”

“Wrong.”

“Wrong?”

Dongmin smiled ferociously. “Wrong,” he repeated. “You’re not my father. My father’s dead. I _killed_ him.” He reached for the mana, barely skimming the surface of the deep, vast pool of pure mana that lay seated deep below the stone beneath the very lands he stood upon, a sick, nauseous feeling swirling about his stomach like he had eaten something sour. 

“K-killed. What--”

“ _Hippity Hoppity,_

_Hippity Hoppity,_

_Bibbity Boppity,_

_As I am to earth,_

_You are to water,_

_The powers that be,_

_Turn this man into a_

_Hoppity froggy.”_

At the utterance of the last syllable, Dongmin pointed his finger at the priest. A puff of thick, heavy green smoke enveloped the man. The man’s companion screamed. His scream got cut off as Dongmin turned to stare at him balefully, finger beginning to swirl through the air once more. Dongmin smiled at him, reveling in the silence.

The silence was short-lived, however. _Rrrriibit. Rrrriibit._

The smoke dissipated, revealing Park Jinwoo in all his green and white-skinned, warty glory, hopping about in circles in confusion. 

_Rrriibit._

The man screamed and tripped face-first down the stairs. Dongmin could only smile as the man’s legs were briefly seen in the air, a single shoe falling off his foot. 

Dongmin could only smile as the door once more opened and shut, the man’s high-pitched screaming fading into the distance as Dongmin was left alone in, for the most part, blissful silence, with only the _Rrribit_ of Park Jinwoo, the head charlatan of the local church, to keep him company.

Head collapsing once more unto the back of the couch, he released the remaining mana, head truly beginning to ache now.

He could definitely go for that drink. 

Just as soon as he got done… he yawned… taking a nap. 

Just before the last of the mana dissipated, Dongmin pointed his finger at the frog and snapped his fingers, freezing it in place.

Silence at last. 

Head dizzy with fatigue and the use of magic, he fell asleep on the couch like that, hoping against hope that he would get some actual rest, but knowing he most likely would not. Mingyu would gather his balls in his hand and come back. 

Sooner or later.

Hopefully later. 


	3. Chapter 2

Mingyu did not come back.

At least, not yet.

Neither has anyone else, for that matter. Jinwoo is still a frog, and Dongmin is still alone. Except for his uninvited guest, of which he is sure he has one. Not because of anything obvious. Honestly, the noises he had heard could have been rats, for all he knew. But the spell he had cast upon waking up showed no signs of life in the old house. Not even bugs.

But he had detected something odd. Something that did not register as alive. 

Another spell did not register it as something dead, either. So it was not a zombie, nor was it a demon or, as best as he could tell, something human either. 

No, he has no clue as to what it is he is dealing with. But that he is dealing with  _ something _ is an undisputed fact. The lights on the topmost floor were on. He could see them through the hipped dormer. 

The hipped dormer that, if he was not mistaken, was one of the windows in  _ his _ room. But then, the whole entire top floor had been his room, once upon a time. Dongmin sighed, even as he couldn’t help but take a look at the grounds that lay before him, wondering if that spot with the slight burn marks was the spot where his great-great-great aunt had made her last stand and been struck down. 

Wondering if the creature inside the house had been the one to strike her down.  Wondering why it is that she had named him her heir and so forcefully called him back when he had been so content where he was. She had to have known upon her death that he would not be happy here.

So what is it that she had found or felt to be so important that she would do such a thing?

The envelope Mingyu had given him lay on the coffee table, still sealed and unopened, most likely containing the answers he sought. He would not be able to open it, not until he found the ring she had used to seal it. A ring that, by all rights, now belonged to him. He could not help but wonder why it is that she had not left the thing with Mingyu. Unless she expected him to be curious enough to try and find it for himself. 

Unfortunately, she was quite correct in her expectation, for Dongmin is a truly curious creature. That curiosity is what had gotten him into trouble time and time again until he was finally disowned from the family, and caused enough trouble even after that fact. It looked like it was going to, once again, cause even more trouble. 

He is going to have to go into the house and find out for himself what foul, nasty creature lay inside. There is just no avoiding it. 

Bending down he picked up Jinwoo the frog and, not knowing what else to do with such a foul-feeling creature, he pulled a group of flowers from a large, ancient vase that he suspects is even older than his great-great-great auntie and, with a  _ plop _ dropped him into the pot. Hopefully, he would not drown but, at the same time, Dongmin did not care either way. There was only one thing worse than hunters, as far as he is concerned, and that is a priest. Even worse than either of those two things is a hunter that masquerades as a priest... or is it a priest that masquerades as a hunter?

Not truly caring for the answer, Dongmin set the vase aside and headed down the stairs, curious about the tarp-covered object in the garage because, for as long as he had known her, his great-great-great auntie had never once owned a car in her whole entire life. 

Why drive a car, after all, when her faithful old persian rug would still do just as well. Dongmin did not care for either one of them. Why drive a car or take a flying carpet or even a broom when he could just gate or teleport to where he needed to go. Except for here. 

Another reason he needed the ring. Neither the house nor the grounds it sat upon and, more importantly, the ley lines and pool of mana beneath it would recognize him as its master until he found the ring. It was a vast pool of magic that would be at his disposal.  _ If _ he needed it. 

Even if he did not need it, it would be far safer in his hands than in the hands of another. He quickly strolled out the door and out into the yard, mumbling spells beneath his breath as he crossed the yard and went back up the front porch. A spell of warding against lesser magics, greater magics, lesser evil, greater evil, lesser good and greater good; because for all he knew some dastardly priest could have summoned a lesser or greater angel and he quite frankly could not stand them anymore then he could a demon, lesser and greater protection, shielding and, just in case, one last spell that was his last line of defense against death. 

It would have to work, he decided as his energy rapidly became depleted, hands shaking. He pulled a flask out of his back pocket and, careful to not spill a drop, took a hearty gulp like a man that needed to catch his breath and the contents of the flask was air. Or perhaps he was an alcoholic and the flask was alcohol.  


Climbing the stairs, he quickly went through the front door and stopped at the darkness that just seemed to envelop the place. He stopped in the foyer, skin starting to glow very softly in an effort to combat the darkness; a side-effect of the last spell he had cast. He did not even need to look in a mirror to know his eyes had changed, appearing to flicker with motes of gold as if on fire. 

The light coming off his skin was semi-decent, enough to light up his immediate surroundings around him in a three-foot circle. It just was not enough. Breathing in an effort to hold in his anxiety with the situation, knowing he could be attacked from any direction, Dongmin stopped. 

Face flushing with a different type of anxiety altogether, he looked around before unbuttoning his shirt and removing it as quickly as possible. His shoes and pants quickly followed, leaving him in nothing but his underwear and socks. The light cast by his skin grew stronger, lighting up the room even further. 

Holding his breath, his brow furrowed when he failed to hear anything. He quickly stepped into the main entry hall and scurried toward where he knew the stairs to be. Halfway to the stairs, a sharp pain stabbed him in the foot and he found himself hopping one-legged toward the stairs, arms flailing in order to maintain his balance. Reaching the stairs, he leaned against the wall as he looked at his foot, wincing at the blood and sliver of glass. In his anxiety, he had forgotten all about the broken glass that littered the floor. 

He released his breath and wincing, pulled out the large sliver of glass in his foot, inhaling and exhaling like a normal human being. It seemed to work as he could feel his heartbeat slowing down. With an awkward hop and skip he managed to make his way up the stairs, drops of blood trailing behind him. 

He didn’t bother with the second or third floor, only taking pause long enough to take note of the  _ bodies _ that littered the once pristine carpeted floors with their pools of blood and rotting flesh. He could have attempted to check them over for their cause of death but it would be useless. He did not have a doubt in his mind that they had been dead long enough, left rotting long enough, that he would be able to discern no visible sign of the how or why of it. Not without using magic, anyway. He had a feeling he would need what energy he had left for whatever was in his room.

His old room was on the fourth floor. Traversing the last set of stairs brought back a lot of memories, most of them good, a few bad. Like the last time, when he had come down them, a hand shoving at his back from behind with the point of a long sword digging into his back. He had a tiny scar on his back from where the tip of the sword had been resting.

Seokmin had not been very gentle back then, or any other time for that matter. He was a stickler for doing what the elders said and following the rules, always in the belief that if he did so, power would be given to him. He did not believe that if you wanted something, you had to go out and get it. Like Dongmin had. No, Seokmin definitely would rather have things handed to him, and because he had no true power or even magic, he surely must have felt slighted by Dongmin’s vast talent and, in his opinion, far superior looks.

Stepping onto the fourth floor, however, made the memories come flooding back. The entire fourth floor had been converted into a suite for his own use, and it looked like his great-great-great aunt had not changed a thing after he had left. 

The bed was in its same spot against the far wall closest to the biggest window. Bookshelves still lined the wall, full of books that he had either bought or been given, though far more dustier than he would have ever allowed them to get. The fireplace still held the two pictures he had placed there on the mantle, though like his books they were dusty. A fire was lit, the logs crackling lazily as they burned in the spring night air. 

The only thing that looks like it had changed was his desk. Where once it had been pristine and kept neatly clean and organized, it was now a mess. Notebooks were piled on all four corners. Books about spells were piled atop one another and shoved to the front toward the window it sat in front of. He did not recall leaving his desk like that. He got closer to the desk and took a better look at the books. They were not his. He did not recall ever once owning a book, much less numerous books, on  _ sex _ magic. 

He could not even recall his great-great-great aunt owning books on the subject, much less teaching it. How would she even teach it to begin with, and why in his room, because he recognized the writing in the margins. It was definitely hers, and… oh…  _ Eww _ ! His nose wrinkled in disgust. How dirty and impure! 

He took a step back and froze as he bumped into something hard, and cold and...maybe even, kind of, just a bit short? A gust of air exhaling onto his skin had him stiffening in place, but that is not what had him panicking. There were  _ hairs _ brushing against his leg, just right where his fruit-of-the-looms underwear ended and his leg began! 

He whirled around and took a step back, only to fall on his ass a second later as he tripped over a stack of books he had not noticed before. 

“Owe,” he hissed out, clutching at his elbow as pain flared up his arm. 

A squeak escaped his mouth a second later as cold, smooth fingers gripped his ankle and  _ pulled _ him back toward his desk. He kicked futilely as pain flared up his foot, fingers pressing into his Achilles tendon in a vice-like grip. 

“Wha!”

Dongmin was pulled further along the floor, leg stretched high enough into the air that it pulled his hips off the ground as the strong grip around his ankle tightened even further. Dongmin winced and blindly kicked out, to no avail. He definitely was  _ not _ screaming like a little girl. 

“Blood!” A soft-spoken voice hissed out, cutting through the air like a knife. 

It was like an iceberg went rampant through Dongmin’s veins. He shivered and found himself opening his eyes in shock as something particularly lewd and wet touched the heel of his injured foot, right where the glass had pierced skin. 

It was an effort, but he managed to focus past the  _ penis _ that was just dangling there in all its thick, lengthy glory, resting against the soft sack of the male’s scrotum below a neatly trimmed layer of pubic hairs as if this man did not have a care in the world. His eyes continued to trace upwards, mind idly noting the hard abs and the very prominent vein that stood out against the pale skin of his six-pack and the outie belly-button. His mind skipped over the prominent nipple and traced up the man’s neck…

His brain short-circuited as he took in the face staring back at him. It was not the face of a man like Dongmin had been expecting, but rather the face of a boy that appeared to be younger than he himself was. That, however, was not the problem. 

No, the problem was the faintly glowing red eyes staring down at him, the boy’s lewd tongue poking out of his mouth, red with the blood off Dongmin’s foot. His fangs, most definitely sharp, gleamed in the fire-light and appeared all the more sharper.

Dongmin could no longer help himself. He whimpered, even as something hot and wet flooded his tighty-whiteys, filling the room with the smell of piss. 

Dongmin had not come in here and picked a fight with a ghost, hooligans, or something simple, like a zombie. 

No. He had come in here and, like an idiot, picked a fight with a… 

He swallowed hard, his throat and neck aching beneath that dark gaze.

Vampire.

It was like his body had a mind of its own, that was how quick he reacted. Stopping his futile kicking, Dongmin shoved both arms out in front of him, his fingers spread out like a fan, pointed directly at the vampire. As Words came unbidden to his mind, he recited them quickly. 

The vampire released his foot and vanished as a gout of flame blasted from his fingertips, heating the air quickly. It was so hot in its intensity it caused the wallpaper on the surrounding walls to bubble up. The wards Dongmin had placed on his body flared up in a shimmering rainbow of colors, protecting him from the intensity of his own spell. 

Not wanting to waste the time given to him, Dongmin struggled to his feet and quickly hobbled out of his old bedroom and back down the stairs, heart racing in his chest the entire time. Unsure as to whether he was being chased or not, he scarcely paused long enough to gather his discarded clothes before he bolted out of the house, tripping over his own legs on his way down the stairs and right into a pair of legs, mind screaming at him the entire time as he rolled to a stop on the sidewalk. 

He had a flying rat problem. 

No, not just a flying rat problem, he thought as he took in the wide, startled eyes of the blond that had accompanied Park Jinwoo earlier that day. 

He also had a clerical problem. 

Dongmin’s head sank into the dying grass as he sighed, the priest hunter-things eyes raking over his body. 

He needed a drink.

Though a bottle would probably be better. 

More importantly, he thought as his nose wrinkled up slightly in disgust, he needed a shower and a fresh change of underwear. 

Without a care in the world, Dongmin tossed his clothes, shoes, and socks on the floor of the carriage house apartment. With nary a glance behind him, he swiftly removed his underpants. A small squeak behind him let him know his ‘guest’ was still following him. He dropped his soiled underwear to the floor, separate from his slightly cleaner clothes and, feet thumping against the hardwood floor in his annoyance, hobbled his way to his great aunties’ couch. 

A grunt of pain from his sore, aching body escaped him as he dropped onto the couch, eyes closing in relief at being off his feet, though if his great-great-great aunt were still alive, she would probably have something to say about him sitting naked on her couch. Not that he cared. 

“What do you want?” he asked.

“Please give Jinwoo back! I don’t…”

Right. The priest hunter thing. Of course, that would be why his side-kick had returned to the place of his unfortunate demise. Dongmin snapped his fingers, once, twice, thrice. A weight settled into his side at the first snapping of fingers, a glass appeared in his hand at the second, and at the third snapping of his fingers, his glass went cold as ice settled into his cup. Dongmin did not even look as he grabbed the scotch bottle that had settled against his side and filled his cup. 

The room fell silent at Dongmin’s blatant display of magic. The priest hunter thing probably was not used to such displays of power but, if you had it, flaunt it.

“What’s your name?” Dongmin asked. 

“Uhh...What?”

“Your name? What is it?” Dongmin snapped, feeling slightly impatient for no good reason, other than the fact that he would much rather be in the shower right now, washing his urine off of his body and down the drain. 

“It’s...uh...Myungjun, sir,” the blond squeaked. 

It is surely a good thing Dongmin’s eyes were closed, for surely the boy would have been affronted with the rolling of eyes that Dongmin would have displayed at being called sir. 

“Cha Eunwoo. Your frog is in that vase...if he’s still alive, then take him and get out,” Dongmin murmured, resting his cold glass against the burning skin of his face even as he pointed a long, slender finger at the vase in question. 

“Still...a-alive,” Myungjun squeaked. 

Dongmin did not respond, just lowered his finger. He took a long sip of the scotch before resting his hand with the glass in it against his thigh, using the cup to provide a bit of cover over his groin. Because for all Dongmin liked to believe he appeared relaxed and uncaring right now, it was quite the opposite. 

He was pulling on mana, filling his  _ veins _ with it, so to speak, preparing in case this foolish  _ boy _ tried to do anything. It was one thing to have a vampire on his property, in his home. It was another to have an actual magic user, one who believed in the light and glory of, and here Dongmin shuddered,  _ God _ and all things this supposed supreme being stood for. 

Dangerous things, at that. There was no telling what ill-sorted manner of things this young man would try. Perhaps a prayer disguised as a curse, or a fireball spell disguised as holy flames or the wrath of heaven. No, it would not do to have such a dangerous thing about. Not while Dongmin is barely in a state to defend himself. 

Though, surely the old wards around the place would activate if he were to be attacked here. But then, he had not felt them when he had been fighting the vampire either, now had he. But then, he was a bit of an idiot, for he had not thought to look for them or their presence, either, before fighting the vampire. 

“E-excuse me, s-sir, how…” an audible gulp, “h-how do I...uh...turn him back into a-a h-human?” 

Dongmin opened his eyes and took in the world, and more importantly this...well...idiot, for lack of a better word, through different eyes. The idiot glowed strongly in his  _ sight _ . He definitely had power. Perhaps even more power than Dongmin himself had. But then, some magics were stronger than others, weren’t they. 

Especially if this boy specialized in magic, as a lot of witches and wizards, even of the hedge variety, were prone to do. While they were, overall, weak in magic, if they specialized, they were prone to be more powerful when working within the sphere of magic of their choosing. 

Dongmin himself was viewed as an extremely powerful spellcaster, and if he had specialized in one of the elements, he would probably be considered terrifying, but he had not specialized, instead choosing to work within all realms of magic. No, if one were to consider him a specialist in any particular realm it would be in--.

“Please sir, how do I t-turn him back,” the boy asked again, and this time Dongmin could see the tears beginning to fall from his eyes. He couldn’t help the way his lip curled in disdain at the sight of tears and such weakness. 

Still, he did not think he would be able to get rid of this boy without providing an answer of some sort. 

“Wilhelm and Jacob,” Dongmin grumbled, still studying the boy with his second sight enhanced by the power of mana. 

“I’m s-sorry, w-who?” 

Dongmin did not give him an answer, just continued to stare unblinkingly at the tiny fool, trying to discern something, anything useful about this unknown opponent. It was useless, he was not getting anything. 

“P-please, I--”

“Get out,” Dongmin commanded. 

“B-but,”

“No buts. I gave you the frog, I told you where to look. Figure the rest out yourself. Now. Get. Out!”

“But I--”

Dongmin did not give the boy another chance. Pulling on more mana, he snapped his fingers. Both the boy and the frog disappeared, leaving him panting in his seat even as his hand holding the glass of scotch began to shake once more. He could feel  _ them _ appearing a few blocks away from the property. 

He could not help but feel relieved. While he himself could not teleport on or off or even around the property, he still had the power to move things about, both inanimate, as was the case with the alcohol, glass and ice he had summoned from his great-great-great aunts’ cupboards and freezer, and animate, as was the case with Myungjun and Jinwoo. 

That was good to know. At least he had one line of defense available to him, though it is, perhaps, not the most ideal. Not if he could only teleport someone a few hundred yards away from him. It would give him, what, two minutes at most to run away?

Fantastic! Definitely one way to go to an early grave if an assailant came at him. And by assailant, he was thinking of a particular, nastily-fanged boy living less than a hundred yards away from where he currently sat. Considering the boy is a vampire, Dongmin really only had thirty seconds at most to escape. 

He needed to figure out what was going on with the wards about the property. 

He could do that after he took a shower though, and perhaps after he got something smoother than scotch to drink. 

Jager sounded particularly nice, right about now. 

Downing the rest of his scotch, he set his glass on the coffee table and bounced to his feet, ignoring the bottle as it tipped over, the cap keeping the liquor in the bottle, where it belonged. Making his way to the bathroom and, the shower, he cranked the water over so it would be as hot as he could stand and carefully maneuvered his way beneath the streaming water.

It was not as relaxing as it could have been. He was barely in the tub when his body started shaking and he found himself sinking to the floor of the tub before he collapsed completely, knees folded to his chest with his arms wrapped around them, head resting on his knees.

He did not make it to the bar that night. After mustering enough energy to get out of the tub, he crawled back to the couch and, pulling the comforter off the back of it, he lay down on the couch and covered himself with it.

He was asleep before his head even hit the armrest.

Dongmin wiped the sweat from his brow and eyed his handi-work, a disgruntled frown teasing at his face, even though he is pleased with the progress he has made with the yard. A pile of weeds lay on the ground next to him, just as brown as the grass. The rose bushes, however, were wilting, in sore need of water and perhaps even something else.

Something that Dongmin could not provide. 

After collapsing so eloquently in the bathtub the other night, Dongmin had spent yesterday recuperating, just puttering about his great-great-great aunt’s apartment house and, eventually, the garage, out of sheer boredom, mind racing with only his thoughts to keep him company. Not that that was much of a problem. He had spent a good portion of the day on his back, napping on the floor.

It was far more comfortable than the couch, Dongmin had discovered. Most people would have probably gone into the bedroom and slept on the bed, but not Dongmin. There was something about the fact that his great-great-great aunt had slept there,  _ resided _ there, that kept him from doing so. Something he did not understand. Some, perhaps, would have thought it was out of respect. But it was not. Dongmin did not care that the crazy old bat was dead. He was glad for it, actually.

The only conclusion he had come up with was, he needed to start somewhere. The garden was as good a place as any, though he knew he really needed to start with the house. Inside of it, to be exact. He had also concluded that he needed to lay off the magic or at least lay off any magic that required him to draw on some serious mana. At least for now.

The problem with that was, most of his magic was done on the fly. In order to work magic like that, he required mana and ley-lines to use it. Sure, he could do the rituals, gather the natural magic that suffused the world around him… or he could try and find another source to work magic. 

A source like, well, sex, for instance. From beginning to end, during the course of sexual interaction, enough energy was generated that, if one knew how to do it, they could gather and store the energy and use it to power spells, like a battery. The better and more frequent the activity, the more energy could be gathered and stored. Even the act of masturbation created energy, though not as much as would be generated if it was done between two people. 

Dongmin did not know how to gather, much less even store, that sexual energy. He just knew it could be done, in theory. The only other option was to unlock the ley lines around him and the vast pool of mana they went to. So far, when he had been doing magic, he had just skimmed the vast surface of the pool, dipping his hand into it and flicking it about like one flicks water off their hand, so to speak. 

It was inefficient and wasted more mana and one’s natural energy. Hence, the reason he has been feeling very shaky after working magic lately, even to the point of collapsing. All this was part of the reason why he did not want to go back in or even near the house. He was afraid that, if he and the vampire got into it again, he would collapse or worse, lose consciousness. Death, he is afraid, would look very unbecoming on him. 

Dongmin took in a shaky breath and eyed the house warily, searching for signs that the vampire was still there, not that he needed to. He has felt like something had been watching him all morning and, once during the night, he had woken up and he was sure something had been there, in the room with him, watching him sleep. It had been enough to freak him out and wake him up. But a trip to the bathroom and a look in the mirror did not show any pinpoint pricks in his neck or anywhere else on his body, for that matter. 

If the vampire truly had been there, he had left Dongmin alone, when Dongmin had been most vulnerable. It was curious, too. Vampires tended to be rather possessive of things they considered to be theirs. Clearly, this vampire thought the house was his. If he did not, he would not have killed people and left their bodies laying so haphazardly about the house.

Another reason he needed to enter the house. Someone needed to clean up those bodies, before they stank the house up any more than they already had. Dongmin sighed. He is going to need a shovel. Briefly, he wondered how much it would cost to rent a backhoe for a while, but decided that would be too conspicuous, even if he did not have any neighbors. 

He found a shovel in the carriage house garage and with a groan at the unenviable task ahead of him, went to the back yard, scouring the yard until he found a spot that felt just right. Thrusting the shovel into the ground, he began to dig. It was going to be a long day, he decided.

He dropped the shovel when the sun began to set and picking his shirt up off the ground, he wiped the sweat from his brow and under his armpits before sitting on the side of the deep hole he had dug. It was six feet long, three feet wide, and, at this point, about three feet deep. Next to it, a few feet away, was another hole, six feet long, three feet wide and six feet deep. Just big enough to hold a body, for that was its purpose. 

He was digging graves. 

He just did not know how many he needed. 

He could find out later, on the morrow, he decided, when he went back into the house to retrieve the first body. Calling it quits for the day, he climbed out of the hole and, leaving the shovel where it was, he went back into the apartment. His night went relatively quickly. He took a shower, found something to eat, and collapsed onto the couch. He fell asleep before he knew it, his body ravaged and needing rest by the day’s physical labor. 

It was just past two a.m. when he woke up suddenly, heart pounding in his chest and body drenched in a pool of his own sweat, the remnants of a dream he could hardly remember fading from his mind. He sat up and looked around. He was alone, lamp lights still on in the living room. His brow furrowed as he heard it. A  _ snick thump  _ sound coming from outside. 

Getting off the couch with a low groan escaping him as his body protested the movement, he dragged himself to the window beside the fireplace, but, either because of the angle or the fact that it was dark outside, he could not see anything. But something… no, someone, was out there. 

Most people would probably call the police, but, considering his ill-begotten, nasty ex-cousin is the town sheriff, he doubted he would get much help, if any. Whatever is out there, he is going to have to deal with it himself. If he could. 

Slipping his shoes onto his feet, he crept as silently as he could down the stairs and exited the side door, wincing as the hinges squeaked. Hoping that whom or whatever was making all this noise outside had not heard them, he crept into the side yard and headed toward the back of the house, cursing the full moon in all its bright glory. It was high enough in the sky that it lit up the yard. While not as bright as the sun, it reflected enough light that he would have nowhere to hide if he needed it. 

His concern for a place to hide became misplaced and set aside as he crept around the corner of the house and froze at the sight before him. There, as naked as he had been the first time Dongmin had lain eyes upon him, was the vampire, as clean as if he had just taken a shower, despite the mounds of dirt around him. The shovel Dongmin had been using earlier in the day was held in one hand, the blade stuck into the side of a dirt mound. 

He looked like a hero who had just slain a dragon and survived, bathed in glorious moonlight like a cloak of pure silver. But that is not what had Dongmin inhaling sharply or his heartbeat racing quickly in his chest. It was the glimmer of moonlit steel dangling off the tip of his penis that had Dongmin’s blood pumping because what in the nine hells, why was it suddenly so hot out.

Trying, unsuccessfully, to tear his eyes away from the vampires dangling dick, Dongmin crept forward, trying to get a better view. Not of his weiner, though Dongmin certainly could not take his eyes off of it, but of the ground around the vampire, trying to attempt to discern what it was exactly that he had been doing out here. 

It’s a pity, Dongmin thought, that he paid so much attention to the vampire boys’ dangler and not his surroundings. He stepped on a twig, the  _ crack _ of it splitting the night air. Dongmin froze, eyes flying upward to find the vampire looking directly at him. Blood flooded Dongmin’s face in embarrassment at the sight of the smirk playing on the boy’s lips. Then quicker than Dongmin could keep track of, the boy was gone, the shovel falling onto the ground as the slamming of a door shook the night air. 

Dongmin considered fleeing himself in embarrassment, but his curiosity prevailed. He took a step forward and then another, quickly scurrying forward until he could round the large mound of dirt and oh. 

Graves, more than the one and a half that Dongmin had been able to dig that day, neatly lined up and arranged in straight rows. Twelve of them altogether, two rows of six each. Maybe it was jealousy at how quickly and effortlessly vampire boy had dug all the holes in the ground, or maybe it was just awe at what could have been a sheer display of power if Dongmin had been able to see it, or perhaps he was just envious at how  _ long _ and  _ thick _ that boy’s cock is. Dongmin did not have a name for it, not that it mattered. All he knows is, his heart is fluttering in his chest.

Any remaining sleep he got that night was broken up at best, his dreams becoming marred by something more primal and urgent in nature. Something so primal and urgent in nature that, when he woke up, his underwear was soiled with his own sperm. 

It was noon before Dongmin felt ready to face the world, his embarrassment with himself and his behavior at two in the morning, not to mention his wet dream, waning enough that he felt he  _ might _ be able to face the world. Just so long as he did not have to face anyone else in it.

Unfortunately, his luck did not hold out. Rounding the back of the house, his vision was marred not by the sight of a vast mound of dirt, though that was there, but by the backs of two men he happened to be very familiar with. With a sigh, he approached them and, not in a mood for visitors, he said the only thing that came to mind. 

“What do you two want?”

Mingyu turned around and smiled at him. 

“Good morning to you too, Dongmin.”

“It’s Cha Eunwoo now,” Dongmin replied. 

Mingyu waved him off as if his words did not mean anything. 

“What’s with the holes?” Seokmin asked. 

Dongmin did not answer him, choosing to pretend he did not exist. 

“They look like graves…” Seokmin’s hand was inching toward the gun at his hip.

Dongmin sighed.

Mingyu stepped in, smacking the sheriff on the back of the head.

“Owe, what the fuck Mingyu!”

“Quit jumping to conclusions. Give him a chance to explain what he’s doing, will you?”

Dongmin had no intention of explaining. 

It is just too bad he’s a shit liar because both men turned to look at him and something must have shown on his face because Mingyu sighed and Seokmin reached for his handcuffs. 

Dongmin smiled. “You’re right, you caught me! They’re graves. I have to house my army of undead corpses somewhere, you know.”

“That’s not funny,” Mingyu murmured. 

“Really? I think it’s a riot. The first two graves are for you guys! Nothing but the two finest people I know to lead my army!”

Mingyu shuddered. 

Seokmin glowered at him. 

Dongmin winked at him.

Seokmin growled. 

Dongmin’s smile grew wider.

Mingyu had enough. “Will you two idiots knock it off. We get it. It’s none of our business. Sorry for asking.”

“Why, thank you for agreeing with me, Mingyu. You’re my favorite for a reason. Now, what brings you here on this fine morning, my friend?” Dongmin asked.

“Huh?” Mingyu blinked at him, probably from shock at Dongmin saying he is his favorite. It took a second for his words to process in his mind before he smiled back at Dongmin. “Oh, we just came to see how you’re doing. The airport called, they still haven’t found your luggage. Also, the storage facility called to say the rent is coming due. I need to know what you want to be done with all the things there.”

Dongmin frowned. “What things?”

Mingyu shrugged, looking just as perplexed as Dongmin felt. “I, uh, don’t actually know. I haven’t gone to take inventory of anything, yet. Should we go and take a look?”

Inventory is right. That is exactly what was in the storage  _ units _ his great-great-great aunt had rented. Spellbooks, crystals, potions, empty glass bottles used for potions, daggers used in rituals, tarot cards, scrying bowls, staves, even plant seeds and books, lots and lots of books, were stored away. All packed away in neatly labeled boxes. He was pretty sure this particular box of textbooks, _Bertie's favorite potions",_ was no longer in use.  


There was also furniture that had not seen the light of day in years, neatly wrapped in plastic. The most fascinating thing, however, is the vast marble sarcophagus that filled an entire storage unit on its own, surrounded by urns and what Dongmin is sure was actual gold. The sarcophagus had runes that Dongmin did not understand carved in bas-relief on its side. The most impressive thing, however, was the boy carved on the lid of the sarcophagus. 

Dongmin knew that boy. He is the vampire currently living on the top floor of Dongmin’s aunties’ house, in Dongmin's old bedroom. 

Seokmin and Mingyu were both trying to open it, their muscles straining as they grunted like a couple of neanderthals in an effort to lift the lid. 

“Oh stop it already, you two,” Dongmin told them, knowing they would not find a body in there. At least, he hoped not. 

“You’re not curious about what’s in here?” Seokmin asked, tone friendly for once, though he sounded a little strained. 

“No, I’m not!” Dongmin snapped, nervous for some reason he could not name. “What I am, though, is nervous you two might break something because I assure you, that thing is so old it’s worth at least a couple hundred thousand dollars!” Surely it was worth way more than that. How old was it, exactly?  


Mingyu and Seokmin took one look at each other and stopped attempting to raise the lid. Both arms raised carefully in the air, they took a step back, as if afraid they might break something. Dongmin also took a step back, wanting to get out of there. 

“It’s curious though,” Seokmin murmured.

“What is?” Mingyu asked. 

“I’ve gone to Aunty’s house every day for over six years now. I even helped move most of this stuff into the storage units and not once have I ever seen these things.”

Mingyu hummed.

Dongmin did not say anything, eyes intent on the life-size carved features of the boy on the lid, insane laughter on the verge of escaping him. Even in stone, the boy was naked, his dick out there for everyone to see. The only difference is, his stone penis was not pierced. 

Dongmin is sure he had not imagined it. 

But, more importantly, why did his great-great-great aunt have possession of the boy’s tomb, and how? Even when Dongmin had been living with her, she had been considered far too old and frail to be traveling out and about in the world. 

“Just who the hell are you?” Dongmin murmured to himself.

“What’s that?” Mingyu asked, eyes turning to Dongmin.

Dongmin shook his head and smiled at Mingyu, troubled. “Nothing. It’s nothing. Let’s go back, please.”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow but did not say anything. Seokmin was staring at Dongmin, face blank in a way Dongmin had not seen in years. 

Dongmin ignored him, troubled even as his mind was racing. He had not bothered to look at the account books Mingyu had given to him. Frankly, he was not sure he even knew where they were, now. They were somewhere, though. He would look for them when he got back to the house, but for now, he just knew he did not want to pay rent to keep all this stuff here. 

Especially the gold.

Where had all this gold even come from! Would he have to declare it as part of the inheritance? Was it even real gold? Why was it not in a vault somewhere?

It was a quiet ride back to the manor. Passing the wrought-iron gate, Dongmin stopped and stared at the house, figure beginning to slump as he realized the enormity of the task before him. His aunt wanted the shop reopened and the house put aright once more. She wanted him to become what the rest of their family swore he would never become, and Dongmin wasn't even sure he wanted to do that.  


The head of the family. Being the head of the family was an awful lot of responsibility.

Why else would she have kept all that stuff?

He sighed. He turned on his heel, prepared to go shopping, and came to a stop as he ran right into Seokmin. “What are you--”

“Where are you--”

They both stopped talking and stared at each other. After a second, Seokmin began to look a bit disgruntled, biting his lip in an obvious effort to keep his mouth shut. Once again, it was Mingyu that saved them from their own hatred of each other. 

“What’s up?” Mingyu asked Dongmin.

Seokmin’s phone sounded. Looking even more annoyed now, he stepped away and answered it. Dongmin ignored him. 

“I need cleaning supplies. Trash bags, paper towels, a broom and probably a mop, floor cleaner, that sort of stuff,” Dongmin told him. Mingyu nodded and looked at him like he was taking mental notes in his head. 

“Anything else?” he asked when Dongmin finished talking. 

Dongmin thought for a moment and nodded. “Air freshener. Lots and lots and lots of air fresheners! I'm gonna have to do alot of cleaning if I'm going to sell the house."  


Mingyu raised his eyebrow and opened his mouth but did not get a chance to remark on it. 

“That’s the tenth body this week!” Seokmin exclaimed.

Mingyu and Dongmin both turned to him, silence reigning around them except for whatever was being said on the other side of Seokmin’s phone. Dongmin could not hear it, no matter how hard he tried. If he was harnessing mana, it would have heightened his senses enough that he would have been able to hear.

Considering he was about to enter the main house, he did not think that would be a good idea. Seokmin hung up the phone. 

“What’s up?” Mingyu asked Seokmin, not beating around the bush.

Seokmin sighed. “They found another teenage boy. Up on Red Rock Ridge. Japanese, by the look of things. They did not find any signs of a struggle or identification…” Seokmin hesitated, looking lost. 

It was here that Dongmin took a good look at his former cousin. He looked tired. No, not just tired. Worn down and ran ragged.

“He was found naked,” Seokmin whispered. 

Mingyu inhaled sharply. “Was he..r-raped?”

Seokmin shook his head. “They’ve not done forensics yet...I need to find Yuta. If anyone knows who the boy is, he will,” Seokmin hesitated again. “He’s alive, Mingyu. This one’s still alive. Unconscious, b-but...it’s something.”

Dongmin could hear the hope in Seokmin’s voice, and it was frustrating, suddenly realizing how out of the loop he was on things. 

“Teeth marks?” Mingyu asked, voice bland. Dongmin stiffened. What did vampires have to do with anything?

Seokmin shook his head. “Not on this one. He’s still alive so...they could have healed. Still, it’s better than nothing...I just..hope he wakes up...he’s...in a coma.” His face tightened again.

“I’ll get your things for you, Dongmin. C’mon Seokmin, I’ll drive you to the police station.”

“Thanks Mingyu.”

Dongmin did not even have a chance to say thanks either, for that’s how quickly they disappeared. Not that he would have anyway. 

He found a broom and dustpan in the living room closet, along with a vacuum cleaner and some tiny trash bags. He found the most important thing in the fridge. A case of beer that he did not remember seeing before. He was two beers in before he gathered his balls in hand, and the cleaning supplies he had found, along with the case of beer and got back down the stairs. The sun was still fairly high in the sky. He had enough time to at least get started on the main entryway. 

He hesitated at the stairs leading up the porch.

“Alright, vampire-boy...boy-vampire?” Dongmin frowned. He had surely been a boy before he became a vampire, right? Did it even matter? Whatever. “You’re going to stay up there, and I’m going to stay down here, and we’re going to get along just fine, okay?”

He shotgunned another beer for liquid courage and, still gathering his balls in hand, he climbed the stairs and crossed the threshold. If he left the front door open in case he needed to make a quick escape out into the sunlight, well, no one needed to know that but him. Unfortunately he did not get much done. Mostly because he really just did not know where to start.  


Mingyu never made it back that night. Not that Dongmin cared much. The vampire-boy did not show himself either. He must have agreed with Dongmin’s request to stay away from one another. That was just fine with Dongmin. 

He still needed to figure out how exactly it is he is going to remove the bodies from the house. In broad daylight. Without arousing suspicion. 

He was still wrestling with ideas on top of nursing a hangover the next day when Mingyu showed up unannounced, looking the worse for wear. 

“Long night?” Dongmin asked, dropping the broom in his hand. He did the only thing he could think of to do. He tossed a beer at Mingyu and opened one himself. It is, in his opinion, the best cure for a hangover. That and Mingyu just looked like he needed one. At least Seokmin was not with him this time. 

Mingyu nodded his head, dropped the things he was carrying and barely caught the beer in time. He cracked it open and downed half of it in one go.

“Yeah,” Mingyu replied. He sounded as exhausted as he looked. 

Dongmin did not ask. Because he did not care to know. Mingyu must not have received that memo. 

“The kid’s still in a coma. On the bright side, he was not raped, like we feared. Not like the others, anyway.”

Dongmin kept his mouth shut. He really did not want to know. These were matters for Seokmin to deal with. Not him. He is, after all, just a fairly useless wizard. 

“Yuta identified him, too,” Mingyu continued, unasked. “His name is Shotaro. He’s Yuta’s cousin…” Mingyu hesitated. 

Dongmin turned away, intent on finishing his sweeping. Because really, Dongmin did not care. He did not even know a Yuta, as far as he knew. 

“Dongmin…”

“Eunwoo,” Dongmin corrected, though perhaps a bit far more softly than he ought to have. 

“Could you, maybe…”

Dongmin sighed. He knew this had been coming. “You know he won’t like that, don’t you?” he interrupted, not wanting Mingyu to finish his words. Still, he could not bring himself to look at Mingyu. 

“I know, I just thought that…”

“He would not just end up hating me even more than he already does, Mingyu. He would end up hating you for it, too. You know that, right?”

Mingyu sighed but did not say anything further on the subject. Dongmin is grateful for that. He would really hate to have to drive his one and only friend away. 

“I’ll start upstairs,” Mingyu murmured, “it looks like you got things down here under control.”

Dongmin looked around, and yeah. That was true. The boards on the front windows had been removed, bringing natural light into the room. Shards of glass had been swept into piles and put in trash bags. Cobwebs had been swept out of the corners and Dongmin had even managed to levitate high enough so that he could wipe down the chandelier. He has even managed to clean the glass display case at the front of the room. 

He had used minor magics to repair the broken glass and reinforce it, well within his capabilities as they did not require drawing upon mana to use. His own personal reserves worked quite well for something like that. The only thing he really had left to do was clean up the sitting room. The fireplace, in particular. The kitchen had, surprisingly, been in perfect condition, as had the dining room. After those he could start on the--

Wait. Hold on a second. Did Mingyu just say he was going to start…

Dongmin gulped. “Hey Mingyu, don’t go up…”

A shriek split the air, followed by footsteps and, a second later, a loud thump. This was followed by the sounds of something, (someone, Dongmin’s mind supplied,) hissing.

“...there.”

Dongmin sighed and dropped his broom again. He shotgunned one beer after the other and, this time not just figuratively grabbing his balls in hand but his whole entire package, shaft and all, as he marched (slowly...very, very slowly), up the stairs. 

It was as bad as he suspected. The first thing that greeted him was a nice, pale, shiny ass, crouched over a body. Dongmin did not have to see to know it was Mingyu, his screams being muffled even as the taller man thrashed and flailed about, hitting futilely at the vampire crouching over him. 

The vampires hissing just grew louder and honestly, Dongmin is surprised to see Mingyu still fighting. He would have expected the slightly younger man to have fainted by now and ope. Dongmin’s new-found respect for his friend had gone up too soon. 

Mingyu let out one last, high-pitched muffled shriek followed by another strike and then he stilled, arms collapsing at his side. Vampire-boys hissing stopped immediately. Dongmin crept forward, intent on getting into a slightly better position to cast a spell, though what sort of spell he had no idea. 

He froze though as the vampire hopped into the air, somersaulted and spun all at once in an impressive display of acrobatics that made Dongmin’s joints ache just thinking about it, fangs bared at Dongmin this time. 

Dongmin froze and held up both hands. 

“Okay! It’s okay. I’m not going to harm you, but please don’t feed off my friend, or kill him, or rape him, or whatever else you might be into.”

Dongmin tried smiling at Vampire-boy, though he found it hard. His body is too tense. Honestly, it is probably the only thing stopping him from pissing himself right now.The hissing stopped, though the fangs did not recede. If anything, it made Vampire-boy appear even sexier now. Dongmin blinked, stunned. He considered Vampire-boy to be sexy?

What the freak! And okay yeah, he could see it now.  


“He reeks like a wet dog, why would I want to feed off him?”

And Dongmin gaped at the voice that came out that face. It was like music to his ears, and it kind of made him chub up. Just a little. 

“Also why would I rape him? He’s not my type.”

“Oh. What is your type?” Dongmin asked before he could stop himself. Wait, what? Focus Dongmin!

The vampire sat on Mingyu’s back abruptly, knees spread out on either side of Mingyu’s long torso, penis glans resting against Mingyu’s abs where his shirt had ridden up in their struggle. Dongmin focused on that, breath hitching in his throat at the sight of surgical steel once more shining in the dim lighting of the hallway they were in. Again, what the fuck. 

Why did Dongmin find this piercing, on  _ this _ vampire, so fascinating? He swallowed the saliva that suddenly flooded his throat and dragged his eyes back up the vampire’s torso, intent on focusing on his eyes and his eyes only.

But don’t vampires have some sort of charm ability, or something like that?

Dongmin found he did not care. So far vampire-boy had not done anything except hiss, bare his teeth and possibly kill his friend, except he had not. Dongmin could hear Mingyu breathing. 

“You were supposed to stay downstairs,” Vampire-boy said abruptly, voice rather accusing.

Wait. What? Dongmin’s confusion must have shown on his face. 

“You said you would stay down there and I was to stay up here and we would get along just fine. You lied to me!”

Oh. That. Yeah, Dongmin had said something like that, hadn’t he?  


“R-right. Sorry, I wasn’t thinking clearly when he...uh...said he was coming up here,” and wait, why the hell is he apologizing? This is his home!

At least, it’s supposed to be. 

Suddenly feeling annoyed at the fact that he felt like a stranger in his own home, Dongmin could not help the scoff that left his mouth. 

“Besides, you can’t honestly expect me to never come up here. Someone has to clean up all these bodies, you know!”

“But--”

“No buts! Seriously, they’re starting to stink! They need to be buried, and you can’t kill people here anymore! I mean it!”

The vampire hissed at him suddenly and really? It was kind of cute, in a child throwing a temper tantrum kind of way.

Only, this child could kill someone before they could even blink. 

“I need a drink,” Dongmin groaned aloud, heart rate abruptly calming down at the sight. It really is cute, he decided. 

“You’re not the only one,” the vampire muttered in what Dongmin was sure he meant to be under his breath. 

But Dongmin was harnessing mana now, knees just beginning to shake with the effort to stay on his feet. He could hear things blocks away and, more importantly, he could see every single minute twitch of the vampires muscles when he moved. He was not expecting that response, though. 

“You drink?” Dongmin asked, surprised. 

Vampire-boy gave him a look like he was an idiot and, for good effect, tapped his finger against one of his fangs as if to say “Yeah, moron, of course I drink.”

“Right. Blood,” Dongmin mumbled, feeling like an idiot. “I thought you drank alcohol for a minute there. Sorry.”

He released his hold on the mana. So far they had been talking for a few minutes now and neither one of them had made a move to kill the other. He felt it safe to do so for now. 

“I can drink alcohol,” Vampire-boy said, appearing relaxed suddenly. 

Dongmin had not realized how tense the boy was, like a tightly coiled snake ready to spring. 

“Really?” Dongmin asked, curious. It is, honestly, the first time he has ever spoken to a vampire. That he knew of, anyway. Knees trembling and stomach aching like he had to poop, Dongmin sat down right where he stood, at the top of the stairs. If he needed to escape, he could push himself backward and roll down the stairs. Or something. Poor Mingyu would have to fend for himself, though. 

“Well, yes,” vampire-boy answered, eyes going dark and intent on his neck. “If you get shit-faced, I can drink from you, then I’ll get drunk, at least a little bit, anyway,” he answered.

Dongmin gulped because Yeah, that’s not what he had in mind. 

“No thanks,” he answered before he could think about it, “I’d rather not die, y’know,” he finished, gesturing at the bodies littering the floor further up the corridor. 

Vampire-boy scoffed. “I did not drain them. As if I would drink from such foul, dirty things.”

Dongmin felt his eyebrows climbing his forehead of their own volition. “So you didn’t kill them?” he asked, seeking clarification. 

“Oh no, I killed them,” Vampire-boy answered, teeth bared in a grim, satisfactory smile.

It was not a reassuring smile, Dongmin decided as he shuddered slightly. 

“In self-defense, mind you,” the vampire added, fangs still bared and, if anything, seeming to grow  _ longer. _ Dongmin stared, fascinated at the sight even as his pants got tighter.

“That’s not helping me restrain myself any,” the vampire announced, and Dongmin realized his eyes were on Dongmin’s crotch and oh. Dongmin leaned forward.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, trying to keep his mind focused on the fact that he needed to save Mingyu, somehow, and not run away in embarrassment. 

“It’s quite alright,” the vampire said, licking his lips and fangs. His eyes were darker, borderline red now, in the growing faint light. His eyes had not moved from Dongmin’s crotch. 

The sun was going down, Dongmin realized. 

“Uhm...so, I’m sure Mingyu did not try to attack you on purpose, so can you, I don’t know, let him go?”

“No,” the vampire replied. Well, at least Dongmin had tried.

The vampire leveled a full-on  _ pout _ at Dongmin. “I’m hungry. I haven’t fed in over a week!”

Right. Sorry, Mingyu, Dongmin apologized in his head, but it looks like you’re vampire fodder now. I’ll remember you fondly forever, my young friend. I’ll even take a shot for you. It’s been a good life, right?

The vampire moved so quickly Dongmin did not even see it happen. One moment he was sitting on Mingyu’s stomach, the next he had his bare ass settled in Dongmin’s lap like he had always been there, a hand around the back of Dongmin’s neck. Dongmin froze. 

“I want to suck your blood, little wizard,” the vampire whispered, face nuzzling against Dongmin’s cheek like a cat. 

“You can suck Mingyu’s instead,” Dongmin squeaked, “just don’t kill him.” 

Dongmin thought his counter-offer was a pretty generous one. There were at least a hundred people, if not more, that would  _ die _ just to get a chance with him, and that had been in high school. 

“I told you, he smells like a wet dog,” the vampire murmured. Then he was off Dongmin’s lap, disappearing as if he had never been there to begin with. 

It left Dongmin gaping, even as a shudder shook his tall, lanky frame. He had no doubt in his mind now that if the vampire had wanted to, he could have very easily overpowered Dongmin and sank his fangs into Dongmin’s neck before he could stop him. 

It was as Dongmin finished levitating Mingyu’s body down the stairs and onto the main floor that Dongmin was struck with another realization. 

Somehow that vampire had sensed it when Dongmin had released the mana he had been holding, because Dongmin decided to put a little trust in him. While he had made it abundantly clear that he  _ really _ wanted to drink from Dongmin’s neck, he had not. 

He had not betrayed the trust Dongmin had shown him. 

Then Mingyu went and ruined the moment. He let out a groan and sat up, eyes wide with terror and voice shaky. 

“Dongmin! What in the nine hells was that...that...that Thing!”

Dongmin couldn’t help it if he grinned a little nervously, like a schoolboy about to admit he had his first crush on someone. 

“I have a flying rat problem,” Dongmin confessed. 

Mingyu’s eyes flicked to the front of Dongmin’s pants, eyes widening further. 

“I’ll say you have a problem, all right, but I don’t think it’s a flying rat problem,” Mingyu quipped back. 

Dongmin flushed red with embarrassment and awkwardly hunched over in a futile effort to hide his erection. He did not think it was his imagination that he heard laughter coming from the fourth floor if Mingyu’s face turning pale as he turned toward the stairs was any indication. 

Dongmin said the only thing he could think of. 

“Shut up! And bury those damn bodies!” he shouted toward the stairs.

Mingyu groaned and collapsed back against the floor. “So I wasn’t imagining those?”

Dongmin sighed and made his way to the twelve-pack still resting on the glass countertop, hoping it was still cold. It was. 

“No, friend, I’m sorry. You weren’t.”

He cracked open his beer, feeling like he needed something stronger. 

Mingyu sighed. “So, about that favor I asked from you earlier…”

Dongmin froze, blood rushing to his face. He had a feeling he was not gonna like where this was going. 

“Please do it, and I won’t tell Seokmin about...you know…”

Dongmin gasped, even as he sloshed beer everywhere in an attempt to get some of it to his mouth. He gave up, though. 

“Kim Mingyu, that’s blackmail!” Dongmin shouted, whirling on his friend.

“Lee Dongmin, I assure you, I am an attorney, and that, my friend, is nothing like blackmail,” Mingyu retorted. 

Dongmin groaned and collapsed face down onto the glass countertop. “I need a drink,” he moaned. 

“You and me both, brother, you and me both,” Mingyu retorted, sounding a bit too elated. 

They never did go and get that drink. At least, not that night. Mingyu went home shortly afterward, hunched over with a hand on his lower back like a tired old grandpa. As for Dongmin, well, he went and took care of his erection, taking a shower and going to bed not long afterward, mind racing with his thoughts once more. Where the hell was his aunty's seal?  



End file.
